Hot Cocoa
by MajorSam
Summary: As their bodies cooled, their chocolately skin started to stick, fusing with that of their lover's, becoming one. "Merry Christmas, John" Helen whispered. Epilogue/Finale to "The 12 Days of Sexmas" marathon


**Series note:**

A child of several spirited Twitter conversations, "The 12 Days of Sexmas" marathon is an ode to Helen and John. The idea is very simple: Throughout the month of December, a group of authors will be posting stories that include: Helen/John, Sex/Smut, and Christmas. Any other details are up to the author! Good/Evil John, Established/New relationship, drabble or drama… Whatever!

We hope you enjoyed our festive offerings!

**The 12 Days of Sexmas, 2010:**

Prologue: Naughty and Nice, by NoCleverSig  
Part 1: Peppermint Twist, by NoCleverSig  
Part 2: Christmas in Corsets, by MajorSam  
Part 3: The Wine Tasting, by NocleverSig  
Part 4: Biggie's Gift of the Nubbin, by lady deadlock  
Part 5: Eggnog and Embers, by MajorSam  
Part 6: The Kissing Bough, by NoCleverSig  
Part 7: Cottage Christmas, by Steph_Schell  
Part 8: Not a Creature Was Stirring, by MajorSam  
Part 9: Catacomb Christmas, by ladydeadlock  
Part 10: Snowballs, by MajorSam  
Part 11: Mistletoe Fun, by Mrs. Derek Morgan  
Part 12: by C0bwebb  
Epilogue: Hot Cocoa, by MajorSam

**The 12 Days of Sexmas**

_"A Merry F****** Christmas indeed"_

**"Hot Cocoa"**

**Copyright 2010, MajorSam**

* * *

Helen sighed and let herself fall further into John's warm embrace.

They were sitting, curled up against each other, on the small antique couch in Helen's bedroom. The hustle and bustle of Christmas morning, the opening of presents, the "family" breakfast were long since passed. The softly drifting snow and bright moonlight outside were hidden away by thick curtains. The Sanctuary was a cozy, warm cocoon of festive joy. The crackling sounds and gentle flickering of the fireplace in front of them had lulled Helen and John into a hazy state of bliss, content to simply be with one another. This was their first Christmas together in over 100 years, and they planned to live every warm, fuzzy cliché to its fullest. Right now they were indulging in the delicious holiday tradition of hot cocoa. A somewhat improved version, in fact. This was specially imported Drinking Chocolate, or "Chocolat Africain" from one of her favourite cafes, Angélina's, in Paris. The café was a bit touristy for Helen's liking now, but when it had opened in 1903… What a revelation! Helen had fallen in love with the thick, luscious drink the first time she'd had it. It was so rich, her throat had hurt for the rest of the evening, but it was more than worth it. She had convinced the head chef to divulge the secrets of the dark delight and took pleasure in preparing it herself on rare, special occasions.

John hadn't allowed himself such decadence in years, and sipping it now, with Helen in his arms, was almost too much. He thought his heart would burst with happiness. There really was something special about Christmas. He felt a sigh of his own break forth. Helen grinned against his chest and looked up at him. The world around John melted away as she gazed up at him with her beautiful, blue eyes and soft smile. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve this second chance, but he would NOT abuse it. He leaned over, careful not to disturb her, and placed his mug down on the coffee table. His now free hands moved to cup her face, stroking his thumbs along her cheekbones. She closed her eyes, still smiling ever so slightly. He couldn't help but grin in return before leaning in to brush his lips against hers.

He would never tire of the supple fullness of her mouth. He kept his kisses soft, light, never lingering for more than a second or two. He kissed her jaw, her cheeks, moving up to her eyelids and her nose. He paid his respects to every inch of her face, and she swore the moisture pooling in her eyes wasn't caused by his tender affections. When he finally arrived back at her lips, she could no longer be content with just his lips. She immediately opened her mouth and licked along the seam of his, coaxing it open so she could slip inside. They both groaned at the sudden explosion of chocolate they could taste on their tongues mingling with the unique blend that was each other.

Helen gripped John's deep green sweater, falling into him further, causing him to almost fully lie down on the couch as their tongues fought a deep, slow, sensual battle. He brought his hands up to hold her waist, her curves, keeping her in place so that they could stay balanced. She let go of her grip on his shirt, using the palm of her hands to smooth it down, conveniently feeling the hard, lean chest underneath, making him moan again, and squeeze her sides.

They continued in this fashion, gentle touches and deep kissing, until the firelight started to dim. Knowing each other as they did, they could sense when the other was about to open their eyes, and did so at the same time. Helen's blue eyes were almost black in the faint light, and John felt the mood shift. She cocked her mouth into a half grin and slid off of him, making sure her body rubbed against his as much as possible. He sat up, but as soon as she started to move towards the bed, he grabbed her hand to stop her.

"John?" she questioned, frowning at him.

"Patience, my dear," he replied, letting go of her hand once she was curious enough to wait for him. She shivered at the hint of promise in his quiet, deep voice.

He started gathering up their mugs of chocolate, pouring them back into the pot, that rested on an ornate tray on the coffee table. The pot was balanced on a small stand underneath which sat a candle, ensuring that the chocolate stayed hot. After emptying them, John set the mugs back onto the table. The tray also held the remnants of the cream in a small, crystal dish, and a little silver spoon. Helen was starting to realize John intentions and felt heat spread across her chest, travelling downwards. He'd had this planned from the beginning. She watched his long, slender fingers shift the contents of the tray around for a moment before taking a step back towards the bed. She brought her fingers to the bottom hem of her dress, soundlessly stripping it off, and throwing it aside. When John was satisfied, he moved to pick up the tray, but as he did so he looked up at Helen and dropped it back onto the table in shock. Thankfully nothing broke or tipped over. But for the fact that he could feel his feet on solid ground, John would have thought he'd died and gone to heaven.

Helen was wearing the most sinfully radiant lingerie he'd ever seen. The deep, red satin shone against her fair skin, the firelight making her glow. The bra hugged her breasts perfectly, enhancing their natural fullness, creating an enticing dark line between them. A tiny, white bow lay at the center of the lingerie, creating a strikingly innocent contrast to the deep crimson.

John grinned a deep, sexy grin. He wasn't the only one who'd had plans for this night. He stood, reaching his full height, and walked slowly towards her until he was a mere hairs breadth away, looking down at her. She looked up at him through thick, dark lashes, a coy smile on her face. He brought his hands up to her shoulders, gently washing his palms down the skin of her arms, and her eyes closed as she breathed in deeply. Though the touch was simple, she would never tire of his skin on hers. He grasped her forearms lightly and bent down to kiss her. She brought her hands up to capture his forearms in return, pulling him closer as their tongues danced languidly. He pulled her towards him, and the rough feel of his sweater against her bare stomach made her pull back. His eyes were already hazy with passion, and she grinned at the adorable look of confusion on his face.

"You're not being fair, John," she chided him. He frowned. She guided his hands to the hem of his sweater and raised her eyebrow. He understood, and took a step back, very slowly grasping the hem and bringing the dark green material up and over his head. She licked her lips and watched as pale smooth skin stretched over lean muscle was revealed. By the time he tossed the sweater aside, she couldn't hold back any longer and reached out, smoothing her hands over his hard pecs, reveling in the feel of him. He swiftly reached around her back and crushed her hands between their chests as he claimed her mouth again. She groaned and pushed at him, separating them only enough so that she could run her hands over his chest, down to his stomach, back up his sides, finally bringing them up to wrap around his neck and shoulders. He was so tall that when he enthusiastically wrapped his own arms around her, he almost lifted her off the floor. She giggled and bit at his lower lip. He loosened his grip slightly so that she was standing comfortably on the floor. He trailed his hands up her back, sweeping along her curves to find the clasp of her bra, but frowned. Where was it? She grinned against his lips, knowing what he'd discovered and pulled back.

"Looking for something?" she teased.

"Helen," he growled in response.

She took pity on him and grabbed his hands in hers, guiding his fingers down her back, along her hips to her front, then up her stomach. He watched, fascinated, as she touched herself using his hands. She stopped her journey at the bottom of the red satin, cupping her breasts, looking up at him again with those deep, blue eyes. He only caught a flash of them, however, as his gaze was drawn to her perfect cleavage. He gently ran his hands over the red satin, realizing up close that it held some kind of delicate, intricate design. She'd certainly made an investment in her outfit. His attention zeroed in on the tiny white bow in the center, and he looked up at her with a wide smile. She smiled back. He cupped her once again, leaning down to lay a gentle kiss to the top of each breast before working the front-clasp, hidden by the bow. He took a side of the bra in each hand and drew them back, opening her up like a present. He drew in a ragged breath at the sight of her bare chest, and without looking away, laid the bra down on the back of the couch. That was a keeper.

Helen took his momentary distraction to reach forward and quickly undo the fastenings on his dark slacks, easing them off his hips to fall to the floor. Dark green, silk boxers were now the only barrier to bare skin, and she got rid of them as fast as she could. He reached for her as soon as she was done, but she took several steps back and looked at him, backlit by the fire. Her heart tightened.

_He was so handsome_

She started at his toes, raking her gaze up his calves, tight thighs, quickly moving past his groin before she got too distracted by the already impressive hard on he was sporting. Her eyes moved over his trim waist, defined abdomen, up his toned arms and chest, to his strong jaw, and beautiful thin lips. She didn't know how she'd survived so long without being able to see him every day, lay next to him every night. When she finally made it to his eyes, they were alive with mirth.

"Shall I spin around for you?" he joked, feeling intensely proud and humbled by her obvious approval of what she saw. Helen blushed. John had been the only man truly able to make her blush. Such a silly, feminine thing to do, but John could make her forget her status as doctor and leader, and feel only like a woman, worshipped and loved.

"No spinning. You have to finish unwrapping your present," she offered in return. His gaze flickered down to her panties, which he hadn't really looked at yet. She walked back to him and almost laughed as he turned scientist, his analytical brain trying to figure out the challenge before him. The red satin looked like it was one long ribbon woven right onto her like wrapping paper. How she'd managed to get it on herself was beyond him, but John soon found the end of it, dislodging it from the waistline and starting to unravel it. It ran in a figure eight pattern between her legs, over her bottom, and up to her hip bones. His fingers trailed like fire on her flesh as every wrap revealed more and more bare skin. As he got closer and closer to finishing, satin bunched in his fist, and his hands started to tremble. He had seen her naked countless times, but the slow pace he set as he revealed a completely bare, smooth Helen was testing his restraint like never before. The moment he held the entire long piece of material in his hand, he let it drop, stepping back and giving her a long appraisal of her own. Her nipples were already tight, though he hadn't touched her yet. When he was done, she walked backwards to the bed, slinking onto it and laying down, stretching a bit before settling into a comfortable position, presenting herself to him.

"Merry Christmas, John." Her voice was low and husky. His mouth was dry, and just as when he was a child, he thought _"Why can't it be Christmas every day?"_

He swiftly retrieved the tray he'd abandoned on the coffee table, and strode over to the bed, placing it on the side table he'd cleared earlier in the day. Helen moved onto her side, resting on her elbow, head on her hand as she watched him make sure his tools were placed accordingly. He glanced up at her lying on her side like some goddess in an ancient Greek painting. He quickly climbed up beside her, fitting his hand into the curve of her waist and kissing her, plunging his tongue into her mouth while his other hand buried itself in her thick, wavy hair. She kissed him back with fervor, but when he tried to move his hands to her breasts, she pulled back, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him back.

"John," she said. "As much as I'd love for you to take me right now, I'm rather curious to see what you had planned." She nodded towards the tray on the side table.

He sighed, brushing a hand over her breast casually as he turned over to grab something, smirking as he felt her shiver at the glancing touch. He moved the hand to her shoulder, pushing her down to lay flat on her back as he carefully moved a silver teaspoon filled with chocolate to hover over her chest. She was already tense with anticipation, and when he let the still semi-hot liquid drop onto a taut nipple, she cried out, back arching off the bed. He leaned down and pulled her chocolate covered nipple into his mouth before the dark liquid could slide down. He moaned at the taste of her sweet skin, enrobed in fine chocolate. She grasped his head tightly as he sucked on her, pulling her in and raking his teeth over her sensitive skin, making sure every last bit of chocolate was gone, looking down and licking whatever spots he'd missed. When he was satisfied she was clean, he refilled the spoon and moved to her other breast, giving it the same treatment.

By the time he finished she was anxiously trying to move her hips up to his, wrapping a leg around his lower back and pulling him down on top of her. He groaned as she ground herself against his erection, taking her breast in his mouth again and biting down to muffle the noise he made.

"John," she breathed, "Please…"

He sucked in a pained breath and pulled away from her, kneeling on all fours above her, just far enough away that she couldn't touch him.

"Not yet," he replied.

He refilled the spoon once again and brought it to her chest. But he didn't pour this time; instead, he let the spoon hover just above her skin. She could feel the heat it promised, but he refused to let it touch her, slowly running it down her tight stomach. Her muscles rippled as the spoon passed over top, as if he was actually touching her, and she fought to keep herself under control, the waiting driving her mad. When the spoon was just above her center, he gently pushed her legs apart, spreading her open to his gaze. Her thighs trembled and her gaze was fixed on the tiny silver spoon, poised so close, needing him to let it go. He stroked her soft thighs, trying to calm her but only serving to heighten her need. He declined to let the chocolate hit her skin, and she was soon writhing with need, quiet, pained moans escaping her but she refused to beg.

Suddenly he pinched her skin, and she jumped, eyes flying to his in a glare, and he grinned at her. With her gaze fixed on his eyes instead of the spoon, he turned it over, dropping the hot liquid directly onto her clit, and her head rocked backwards as she cried out, hips convulsing as the slippery warmth slowly made its way down between her folds, covering her. In the next instant John's mouth was on her, spreading it around before lapping at it with his raspy tongue. John could hear her pleasure rapidly progressing, and fought to slow himself down. He avoided her clit completely, choosing to pay soft attention to her folds, taking each lip into his mouth and laving gently. Occasionally, he would move away from her sex completely, licking at the juncture of thigh and hip, nipping lightly to make sure she stayed on edge. She would make a little squealing gasp when he did, and he thought it was maybe the most erotic sound he'd ever heard.

When he tasted the chocolate dwindling, he blindly reached out and grabbed the pot, spreading her with his fingers and pouring it over her. She could barely process the feel of the thick, hot cocoa and his tongue as he pushed it into her, thrusting in and out, sucking and biting and licking. Through her haze of pleasure all Helen could do was grab the sheets in her hands, grasping them, using them to ground herself so she didn't fly off the bed and into heaven as she moaned and writhed. She could feel the thick cocoa dripping between her legs onto the sheets below. The sophisticated gold bedding was expensive, but she didn't give a damn that they were now ruined. What a way to go…

John could feel the heat emanating from her, smell her arousal, and knew she was close to the edge. He carefully placed the pot back onto its stand, and grabbed the bowl of cream. He scooped as much as he could onto his finger, and dropped it onto her steaming center. Her eyes flew open and she half shrieked at the surprise of the cool, thick cream suddenly cutting through the heat of the chocolate.

"Good God, John," she whimpered as he used his finger to leisurely spread the cream, cooling her down. The dense, yet fluffy, creaminess was like nothing she'd ever felt before. When he'd decided she'd been properly decorated, he began to lazily lick her once again. As he began to uncover her flesh, she would sometimes feel the cold of the cream and the heat of his tongue in one stroke, and the contrast had her orgasm building at a rapid pace. John didn't think he'd be able to stop this time, so he reached out and miraculously found the chocolate once again.

One last time he poured the hot sweetness over her clit, and she finally couldn't handle it anymore, back arching completely off the bed as she screamed her orgasm. He eagerly kept lapping at her, roughly rubbing at her clit to ensure she achieved the full potential of her climax. She gradually came back down to Earth, as his tongue finished gently clearing any trace of the dark confection. She weakly brought a hand up to brush away sweat-soaked bangs from her forehead.

"Dear god…" she whispered, and John swelled with pride, moving up her body to look down at her gorgeous, flushed face.

"Merry Christmas," he spoke softly, and leaned down to kiss her, placing the pot back on its tray. The taste of herself and chocolate invaded her senses, and despite her lethargy, she moved her hands to his neck, clinging to him, addicted to his touch. He made a sound that vibrated against her mouth, and his hips ground against hers. He was hard and heavy against her, and it was either a Christmas miracle, or the fact that she was always hopelessly turned on by him, but Helen felt her strength and energy return. In an instant, she hooked her leg around his and flipped him over, landing hard enough on top of him that he let out an, "Oomph." When he caught his breath again, he stared up at her sparkling eyes, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Christmas isn't over yet," she grinned, reaching over to retrieve the spoon. John took a deep breath, steeling himself for the torture he knew she would inflict upon him. Just as he had with her, she let lack of touch be her weapon of choice. Anticipation really was one of the most potent aphrodisiacs. After an agonizingly long time, she was holding the liquid sweetness above him, his cock weeping and straining up to meet her. Helen used the hand not holding the spoon to fondly stroke him as one would a favourite pet. After but a few strokes, he was panting like a dog, and she smirked, pleased that she could still reduce him to this state. She decided that he was sweating enough and dropped the chocolate directly onto the head of his cock as she gripped its base. He let loose a strangled cry as it slowly dripped its way down his length, burning trails of sweet fire. Helen breathed heavily, eyes dark as she watched him thrash.

Helen leaned down and let just the tip of her tongue touch him, creating a tiny rift in his chocolate coating. His hips bucked at the feel of her, and she placed her hands firmly upon them, pushing him down onto the bed. She looked down at him, taking in the sight of his now dark manhood sticking up like a giant popsicle, only much, much hotter. She grinned and leaned down to lick him; once, twice, three times in quick succession, just as she would a melting ice cream cone. He mumbled something incoherently. She dived back down, trailing her tongue horizontally across him, working from base to tip, methodically uncovering his skin to her gaze. She stopped when she was about halfway finished, remembering she had to treat him just as he had her. Quickly scooping up some cream, she let a big dollop cover his head, sweeping her hand away with a flourish and giggling.

John looked down at her with hazy, passion-soaked eyes.

"What's so funny?" he grumbled, wanting her to continue her ministrations.

"John Druitt," she proclaimed, "you're my own personal ice cream sundae, with a big, lovely cherry on top!" She laughed, and he looked down at her, bemused. He was far too aroused to really understand her humour, but if he smiled and nodded, maybe she'd get over it soon and get back to work.

Thankfully, she did.

She took his chocolate-free base firmly in one hand and took his head fully into her mouth, using her swirling tongue to help suck off the cream "cherry" that adorned him. When she'd swallowed most of it, she moved her mouth further still, taking as much of him as she could. John let out a stream of half-choked curses and his hand flew, involuntarily, to bury itself in her lush hair, grabbing the locks and hoping he didn't hurt her as he held on. Within just a few hard sucks he was afraid he wasn't going to make it, and with super human effort he yelled, "Stop!" and pulled her off of him.

She frowned up at him with smoky, black eyes, chocolate and juices from her mouth running down her chin while she continued to hold him in her hand.

"No more," he pleaded, trying to catch his breath.

It took her mind, so focused on her task, a few seconds to realize what he was saying. He couldn't handle it. She smothered a smug grin before she hurt his ego.

"You don't want anymore?" she questioned with mock concern, raising a delicate eyebrow. He shook his head, about to tell her he just needed to bury himself inside her, but she interrupted him.

"Well if you don't want any more, then I guess it's my turn again."

She reached for the pot of chocolate on the tray before she drew herself up as high as she could while still kneeling between his legs. She tilted her head back, stretching out before him. She raised the pot above her chest and poured the final remnants of chocolate over her breasts, humming as the liquid warmed her skin. John looked helplessly on as she tossed the pot back onto the tray, closed her eyes and crossed her right hand up to her left breast, taking as much as she could into her hand and spreading the chocolate around. She gently squeezed, bringing her thumb and middle finger together to pinch at her nipple, grimacing slightly at the sweet pain. She ran the length of her middle finger over the swollen bud to soothe it, then slid the finger up her neck and brought the chocolate smothered digit to her mouth. She licked it once, before slowly sucking it into her mouth, opening her eyes and piercing him with her dark blue gaze as she did so. By this time, the fire was burning low, almost out. Shadows played across her face, making her look like some dark seductress, sent to destroy him. Or save him, as she had.

John growled, and sat up just far enough so that he could grab her waist with his hands and roughly pull her forward so that she fell over him, laughing, her breasts landing directly above his head. He moved his hands to her upper back, pushing her down so one fell into his mouth. There had been enough teasing this night, it was time to take her as he wanted, as he needed. He sucked hard and fast, divesting her of her chocolate coating as efficiently as he could.

"Yes, John," she choked, sensing she would soon be finally joined with him. She wrapped her hands around his head, making sure he stayed with her as she rocked back, forcing him to sit up, so that she was sitting in his lap. His erection strained against her and they both groaned as he brushed through her soaking folds. He frantically tried to finish lapping at her chest but couldn't hold out any longer, giving up and grabbing her waist. As if she were a feather, he lifted her above him and pulled her down hard as he thrust up into her willing heat. They both cried out at the overwhelming sense of completion. He wrapped his arms around her body, crushing her to him and burying his face in her neck as she did the same to him, stilling any movement below the waist for a few moments as their brains sought to catch up with the heavy pulsing of their need.

"I love you, Helen," he said into her neck, his voice shaking with the effort of adjusting to her tight embrace.

"I love you too," she whispered back, eyes squeezed shut against the torrent of emotions, and pleasure, elicited by his words and the stiff cock inside of her. "So very much."

The moment passed quickly, bowing before the might of their passion. She started moving on top of him, and within moments they had found a rhythm, perfectly in sync with each other's body and mind. They wrapped their arms around one another, squeezing as tight as they could, needing to feel as much skin as possible. As the chocolate John had missed rubbed onto him, he could feel Helen's rapidly beating heart as her breath panted harshly at his ear. He could hear the wet sounds of chocolate and arousal as they rocked against each other, along with the slip and slide and sticking of their sweaty chocolate chests.

"More, John," Helen whispered at him to move harder, faster, and he did his best to obey, offering his own words of encouragement.

John didn't know if they were too keyed up with anticipation, or on a sugar high, but though they were sweating, flushed red with pleasure, they couldn't finish. He looked at Helen; her eyes were squeezed shut with effort, little keening sounds escaping her clenched teeth as she tried to reach her peak.

"Helen," he warned, before suddenly grabbing her hips and wrenching her off of him. She made a displeased sound and glared down at him, but he swiftly turned her around and slammed her back down onto him. She gasped at the new angle as he groaned, splaying his hand on her stomach and pulling her back against his chest, quickly painting this new skin with their chocolate and sweat. They started up a new rhythm, and were soon lost in sensation, their formidable minds focused entirely on bringing the other pleasure. He skimmed his hand up to her breast, still slippery, and began to knead it with his long fingers, pulling and twisting her nipple, alternating between both. Shocks of pleasure shot straight to her core, and she twisted an arm behind her, grabbing his head and pulling it forward so she could feel his smooth cheek against her own. His other hand soon left her hip to play with both breasts at once, squeezing and pressing at discordant times so she never knew what to expect. She snaked her other hand around his waist, holding onto his back to give her a more solid base against which to move. He gave her nipples a particularly hard tweak, and her pussy clenched around him, delicious, tight friction. He slid a hand down her smooth, soft skin to her clit, massaging it between his fingers, scraping his nail over it. She was crying out his name with every hard thrust, and it was beautiful.

He needed her so badly, more than the food he ate or the air he breathed. He wanted more than anything to show her, on this Christmas day, how much she meant to him. He buried his face in her neck, licking her salty, sweaty skin as she leaned her head to the side, allowing him full access. He kissed his way up her neck to her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and squeezing out his groans. Her hand was desperately squeezing his side, trying to keep a firm grip but starting to lose the ability to control her body. He let her ear slip out of his mouth and trailed back down to her neck.

He took her swollen clit between his fingers and pinched hard, biting down where her neck met her shoulder at the same time, and she took a shuddering breath before her head snapped backwards onto his shoulder and she was screaming beside his ear. It should have hurt, loud enough to wake anyone in a three block radius as it was, but he was tumbling into ecstasy himself, roaring her name in reply, his hands everywhere on her, rubbing and stroking and pinching.

Helen was completely mindless, having transcended ordinary human pleasure. What this man did to her was impossible, and when her body finally collapsed, she fell onto him, sliding down his sweat slicked body, taking him with her into a tangled heap. Her heart tried to pound out of her chest for what seemed like hours, and she reached for his hand blindly, pulling it to rest just over her left breast so that he could feel what he did to her. He found his heart trying to beat its own path out, reaching towards her, wanting to become one in reality, rather than just in their minds and souls. He couldn't see, still blinded with searing pleasure, but felt his way along her body until his head joined his hand, lying gently down on her chest so he could hear and feel her thudding heartbeat beneath him. Tears leaked out of closed eyelids, caused by joy, love, completion. She wrapped her arms around his head and neck, holding him tight until her heart finally slowed its thunder, evening out into its usual steady pace. When he had calmed himself, John kissed her, lingeringly, where his head had lain. He tiredly lifted his head to look at her.

Her blue eyes, foggy with rapidly approaching sleep, smiled softly back at him. He dragged his spent body up hers, taking her lips in his in a short, but passionate, kiss. She gripped his biceps to keep him connected with her for just one second more. When they broke apart, he lay down on his back beside her, and she shifted onto her side to wrap an arm around his waist as he encircled her within his. She lay in his right shoulder, rising up slightly with the movement of his body each time he breathed. As their bodies cooled, their chocolaty skin started to stick, fusing with that of their lover's, becoming one. In the last few moments before sleep, Helen leaned over and blew out the candle on the tray that had been keeping their chocolate hot. She never forgot to put out the fire.

"Merry Christmas, John," she whispered before sleep claimed her.

"Merry Christmas, my love," he murmured before joining her in the land of dreams, a smile on his face.

Helen woke, for no particular reason, two or three hours later. The fire was completely out. The only light in the room was the faint sheen of moonlight seeping in through the curtains being chased away by the early morning light of day.

They had slept for a small time, and then made love again, well into the night. Now a new day was dawning, but for once, she didn't feel the need to get up, to start the day, to get to work. She was content to lie exactly where she was, amidst the ruined sheets, with John.

Helen sighed, rubbing her cheek gently against John's chest, smelling the sweetness of sex, sweat, and dried chocolate.

Already falling back asleep, Helen smiled.

In all her 160 years of living, this was surely the best Christmas ever.

The End

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A/N Well folks, there you have it! The 1st Annual 12 Days of Sexmas Marathon! Thank you SO much to ALL who read, especially those who read, or reviewed, them all! We can't wait to see you next year. HAPPY NEW YEARS!


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